Acerbitas
by Rowan Arkenson
Summary: I close my eyes and as I tighten my fist around the sharp blade, I can feel it dig into my skin…I collapse to the floor. My hand is weak. In a last grasping attempt I squeeze the knife as hard as possible cutting deeper into that which I hate most–mys
1. Pain

**Title:** Acerbitas 

**Author:** Rowan Arkenson

**Summary:** _I close my eyes and as I tighten my fist around the sharp blade, I can feel it dig into my skin… I collapse to the floor. My hand is weak. In a last grasping attempt I squeeze the knife as hard as possible, cutting deeper into that which I hate most – myself…_

**Pairings:** Kind of Harry/Draco but **NOT slash. Sorry to disappoint you!**

**Disclaimer: **Ok, so I did forget this at first, but I just forgot. So then I wasn't going to bother adding it, but hey – JK's a bitch so she probably WOULD sue me. All this disclaimer stuff's a load of bollocks though, wouldn't you say? Like anyone would give a shit – it's not like we're pretending we OWN Harry Potter. Even if we said we did no one would believe us so what's the point? Ok, so, yeah, on with the disclaimer: (clears throat) "I, Rowan Arkenson, do not own the names of the characters in this story. Nor do I own the history relationships between them and stuff. Nor do I own the setting. HOWEVER," (clears throat once more), "I do own the slightly (although not to the eyes and minds of fanfiction readers, but to the eyes of JK Rowling fans) changed characters and depression of a certain character who may seem to JK Rowling 'Out Of Character'. I also own the main plot of this specific story, but not the Hogwarts theme JK Rowling has so kindly put in." End. Happy?

**Rating:** PG-13 for mild swearing and, um…violence - "inappropriate scenes".

**Author's Note:** Reason for doing this fic? Felt bored and depressed. That's why! And I've been wanting to do a Draco fic for AGES but never get the inspiration to do it. So finally I have inspiration and here's the result. Hope you like it. And yeah, this chapter _is short, but what can you do?! LoL. The next chapter will probably be longer. Well, maybe… Oh, and as a warning to anyone who's actually reading this,…no, actually, I have TWO warnings for you! 1)I already have three stories im writing at the moment, so I won't be writing this ALL the time, though I do write quickly, so if I don't update for ages, you'll know why, 2)this might be quite a short story (a few chapters) or I might decide to make it really long, so be prepared for both!! Go read now and review please!!!  ~rowanx_

**Chapter one - Pain**

I clutch the knife in my hand. I close my eyes and as I tighten my fist around the sharp blade, I can feel it dig into my skin. Blood seeps out through my closed, white fist. I tremble as the pain shoots along my arm and my hands get covered in the dark red oil. My mind races through everything I've ever felt, ever seen. Images, memories, thoughts…

Memories of my father, towering above me, a clenched fist hanging threateningly in the air. I see myself, cowering on the floor, arm raised protectively over my face. I had a set face, not wanting to show my father how weak and hurt I was. Wanting to prove to the man who calls himself my father that I was strong enough to live.

Turns out I'm not.

Turns out I'm just like everyone else. Weak and open to pain.

My hand feels numb. The blood is now purple. I can see my veins. Can't think too…clearly. Head feels dizzy. Mumbled thoughts. Thoughts of Slytherin. Thoughts of my mum. Thoughts of Potter, Crabbe, Weasley. Enemy or friend? Can't remember. Don't care.

I collapse to the floor. My hand is weak. In a last grasping attempt I squeeze the knife as hard as possible, cutting deeper into that which I hate most – myself. I drop the knife onto the floor. I hear it clatter. My eyesight has gone blurry. Amidst all I feel hungry. An ironic smile. I smile, crazily. I look to the knife on the floor. Suddenly, it rises to the air and gasps. I see a shadow. I open my mouth to speak. My eyes droop. The blackness fills my mind…

I wake up. I blink, feeling confused. Where am I? Where's all that bright light coming from? I try to open my eyes but don't know how to. My nerves are blocked…

Again, the blinding light. Am I still asleep? I don't know. Confusion. Sleep…

Eyes snap open. I yell aloud. Who for? What did I just say? Not too sure. Can't remember now. I look around. See the blinding light which comes from above. Things start to take shape in front of my quivering eyes. I see walls. I see screens. I see a chair. A table. A person. Who? Who is that? Who cares. Whoever they are, they don't care about me. No one does…

A sob escapes my throat. I feel a tear prickling at my eyes. I never cry. Never. The tears escape. I feel it rolling down my cheek. I blink, in an effort to hold back the tears. When I open my eyes, things are a bit clearer. So I blink again. More clearer. I don't dare look at the person. I don't want to know who it was who saw me cry. I turn my head away and close my eyes. I hear a chair shifting, I see a shadow stand, I hear the footsteps as they moved away – as if they know I don't want to know who it was. As if they know me. No one knows me. Not really.

I wake up. This time, when I open my eyes, I can see things very clearly. My head hurts and it feel confused and muddle. As if I have just spent an eternity walking through a mumbled, confused dream. The only things I am sure of, is the fact that I'm dead, and not happy about it.

I sit up onto my shoulders and look around. I'm in the hospital wing. I frown. Someone must have found me and brought me here. But who? Then my eyes widen as thoughts of a person near by come flittering back into my mind. I close my eyes and think urgently of anything, any clue as to who that person was. I remembered…twinkling eyes. Was it twinkling eyes? No, it was glasses! They had glasses. Hair…messy hair that kind of looked like mine. It was darker though…

Oh no. My mind tries desperately hard to think of other people who match this description, but I can only think of one person. My eyes snap open. Potter.


	2. Fear Leads to Power, Love Leads to Death

**Disclaimer: **Are you supposed to do this on every chapter? Shit, this is SOOOO dumb. Ok, so I'll do this now counting for all up and coming chapters, ok? I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!!! SO ALL LAWYERS CAN FUCK OFF. :P

**Author's Note:** Wow, I got seven reviews! That's quite good methinks!! =) and in the same night/day that I uploaded it as well =) well, I'm writing this authors note before I go on to the chapter (why? No idea) so I dunno what it's going to be like or whether you'll like it or not but I hope u do!! =) REVIEW! ~rowanx

**Chapter two – Fear Leads to Power, Love Leads to Death**

"Mr Malfoy, you're awake!" Madam Pomfrey hurries over to me. She smiles; something she does not often do around an arrogant git like myself. "And how are you feeling?" she asks.

I simply nod in reply, not caring what answer she takes this as. I wonder at the level of pretence in her smile. I expect she feels sorry for me. No doubt she knows I tried to end my life. She feels sympathy for me, nothing more. No one feels anything more for me.

"Mr Potter brought you in last night," Pomfrey says as she tries to tidy up around me and fluffs my pillow – as if I'm going to be in here a long time. I nod again. "He told me of the little accident you had." This at last captures my attention. Pomfrey then became the usual stern nurse I've always known her to be. "Goodness knows what you and Potter were thinking – playing around with knifes like that, betting on who could hold on to their knife longer without the skin bursting I mean really." My heart skips a beat. "I alerted Professor Dumbledore, of course, and he says ten house points are to be deducted from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for such foolishness. You could have been killed." Pomfrey takes my hand in her own. I wince at the touch. She looks it over – the marks from the knife are still there, and I swear the skin looks darker stained from the blood. "Well," she says, "I supposed you'll do. But first, a good old muggle bandage."

My Malfoy instinct returns to me. "A bandage?" I scorn. "What do I need a bandage for? Can't you use magic?"

Pomfrey raises her eyebrows at me. "Not to heal the ache or the stain, Mr Malfoy, no." She finds a long piece of cream material and starts wrapping it around my hand. I do not quite understand it. Why is she wrapping a piece of material around my hand as though it will suddenly feel better? What ludicrous ideas muggles have.

At last I am allowed to go. I change and leave the hospital wing quickly, thoughts jumping around in my mind. Potter lied? Potter lied – for me – even if it got himself into trouble – even if he could have everyone knowing what I obviously don't want people to know? I frown in confusion. Was it just me, or had something changed without me knowing? Had the rules changed? No – the rules between me and Potter have always been quite simple. We do whatever we know the other will hate, and we'll try and embarrass the other as much as possible whilst doing it. I have never helped Potter nor ever wanted to; and until last night neither has he helped me.

I lift my left hand and run my fingers along the bandage. Suddenly I start ripping it off. I need to see the cuts, the scratches, the wounds. Pomfrey for some reason didn't let me see it before it was wrapped up hidden away in this bandage. Finally the material unwraps itself and falls to the floor. I wince in agony as I see the mess I have created on my own flesh. Deep and sharp cuts run along my hand in dark red lines. There is one in particular from the side of my hand to just above the thumb, and another running along my fingers. I open my hand slowly and almost cry out in pain. Surely Pomfrey could have casted a spell to make this heal quicker? Maybe she just hates me. Wait, what am I saying, of course she hates me. I'm a pompous arrogant git. Who _doesn't _hate me? Even I hate me… And now I have the scars to prove that.

I lower my hand as I reach the dungeons. I go down into them and into my common room. I have a shower and change into fresh clothes, before slowly making my way down to the Great Hall. From my watch I know that they will not yet have finished breakfast.

Pausing at the doors of the Great Hall, I open one and slip inside, hurrying over to the Slytherin table, hoping against hope that a certain Gryffindor boy will not see me. But even as I keep my eyes to the floor I can feel his gaze upon me. I sit down in between Crabbe and Goyle and try hard not to look up. "Where have you been?" asks Crabbe.

"None of your business," I answer shortly.

"Ok," says Goyle, and the two quickly hurry back to their food. I sigh in annoyance. Even Crabbe and Goyle hate me – it is obvious. They stay by my side only because their fathers make them. Everyone wants in on the goods to Lucius Malfoy's son.

Suddenly, I laugh aloud, causing a few Slytherins to stare at me. I'm crazy. Why the hell am I sitting here feeling sorry for myself? I'm Draco Malfoy. So what if people hate me? Besides, they don't hate me, they fear me. Fear leads to power. Love leads to death. That's what father always taught me. In whatever ways he thought necessary…

I block out that annoying side of me that knows I am lying to myself – that's the side of me that nearly commited suicide last night. But no, I'm not going to listen to it. I'm not that stupid. Not that weak.

I finish my small slice of toast and stand. Crabbe and Goyle do the same, even though it is clear they have not yet finished their large breakfasts. They follow me as I walk out of the hall and slowly go to Herbology. Still I refuse to let my mind think on the person linked to the green eyes that I know are following my every move.


	3. Your Heart

**Author's Note: **Hope you like this chapter. I'm still not sure what's going to happen in this story. Perhaps I won't write anymore, perhaps I will. It might have a happy ending, it might have a sad ending, or it might not have any ending at all! I was just going to do a short thing where Draco tries to commit suicide, and Harry saves him – but then loads of people reviewed and I felt inspired to write more! Maybe it still will be very short, but just not as short as I'd originally intended!!!! I'd like to thank the following people for reviewing:

**One-Winged Angel** – where do I get my ideas from? Other people's stories of course, where else?! Thanks for reviewing all my chapters (two, wow, lol).

**MiSt**** – glad you like this, I do too!**

**Totaloser** – You think this story's Perfect? …well ok then!

**Rocket Chick – **glad you like the descriptions, and I hope you do come back to read more!!

**Xani**** girl 7 – snazy is my middle name :D**

**Dracoluvah**** – ah, another fan of draco I see? I hope you got my email. Bitter Sweet – the title of my life story.**

**Twiglet**** – tee hee, loved your name, hooharrhar! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Acerbitas**** – oh I wonder who o_O glad you liked it molzi. Write more poems please and I hope you read more of this and tell me what you think!!**

**PrincessofBarzel**** – intriguing name, I must say. Im the best author? What, _ever_???? Well golly gosh, I'm blushing, and thank you SO MUCH but I'm not the best author ever! What about Catherine Fisher, JRR Tolkein, Philip Pullman, Susan Cooper, and, of course, JK Rowling?!! Cheers :D**

**Mistal:Abyss****, Water Fairy – and another one with a parculiar name! more soon there is, just read on!!**

**A/N: please review! Hope you like the chapter! ~rowanx**

**Chapter three - Your Heart**

Herbology is boring. We're not doing anything. Professor Sprout is going on about the reasons why the Porfren is called Porfren. Don't ask me why, I'm not listening. Crabbe and Goyle are having quite an amusing fight about who's the largest. Both have grown quite a lot over the past few years and I would say both look about the same build. Perhaps Crabbe is slightly taller. It's hard to tell; his hair is so muffed up it looks as though inside of brushing it, he rakes it up instead so that it sticks all over the place. Honestly. Some people just have no dignity at all.

As much as I hate Crabbe and Goyle, it is useful to have them around. I am quite strong, but with them around, no one bothers to start any fights with me. I smile. Unless of course I let them.

This thought for some reason makes my musings wonder back to Potter. Most unfortunately, we have Herbology with the Gryffindors. He's looking at me. I give him my meanest, most-deadliest stare possible, and he simply looks away and at Madam Pomfrey. I frown in annoyance. He didn't look embarrassed that I caught him staring, and he didn't look annoyed when I sent non-verbal death threats to him. But then again, he did kind of save my life…

Not that that's a good thing. But I don't think I did it properly – and someone would have found me eventually, wouldn't they? Good thing Potter didn't blab. If people knew I had tried to end my life, then…well, it would be weird. Everyone hates me, that's no secret, and people would feel awkward whether or not to feel sorry for me. Oh, and if father ever found out… Who knows what he would have done.

Herbology has finished. I look up, confused. Everyone's gone, and Crabbe and Goyle are still bickering. I sigh and push them out of the greenhouse. When we get outside they turn to me. "Where are we going now?" Goyle asks.

"Transfiguration," I answer. They look blank. "Remember? Where you turn things into other things? It's our next lesson." They look blank still but when I sigh and walk away, they follow me. Don't ask me how they pass the end-of-year-exams. I expect their fathers have something to do with it.

When I reach the main doors and step inside the entrance hall, Potter is standing there, as if he were waiting for me. I stop still and stare at him. He stares back. I cross my arms. "Crabbe, Goyle, go," I say.

"…Where?"

"Just go!" I yell.

They leave up the stairs. At least they've started off in the right direction. I shake my head as they leave then turn and walk towards Potter. "Well?" I ask.

Potter opens his mouth but I cut him off with a swift wave of the hand. "Don't ask me why, because I'm not going to tell you, and I know you already have your own ideas as to the answer to that so whatever I say you won't believe me anyway."

After a moment, Potter nods. "Ok," he says. He doesn't walk off, he simply stands there, as if waiting for something.

"Well?" I ask. "Go away."

"Why don't you go away."

"Because you're waiting for me to tell you something and if you're the first person to leave, that means you've decided not to ask me, but if I'm the first one to leave, then you'll only ask me later anyway, so what is it?"

Potter smiles in a scornful yet amused way. It's a bit eerie actually – he looks a bit like me when he does that. "Ok then," he says. "I was just wondering – are you glad_ I saved your life or not?"_

I frown. "Shut up you did not save my life."

"Yes I did. If I hadn't taken you down to the hospital wing, you…"

"Wait, did you _carry me?"_

Potter shrugs. "Well, what else was I supposed to do? I couldn't just leave you there with blood all over you."

I instinctively look at my hand and suddenly wish I hadn't. Potter's eyes travel down to where it hangs at my side and gasps involuntarily. "Malfoy you stupid…" Potter stops and shakes his head, returning his gaze to my face. "Whatever. I'm sure you had your reasons. I just would never have thought it of you, that's all."

"Thought what of me?" I ask instinctively.

Potter almost grins, then doesn't. "I never would have thought you would be one to run away when it gets tough."

Anger. I do not run away from stuff. I clench my fists at my side and then yell aloud at the pain that runs through my arm. I lift up my hand and look at it, running my fingers along the scars. I really wish I hadn't done that.

"Does it hurt?" I turn. Potter is suddenly at my side. 

I frown. "No, it doesn't. I gasped because I was practising some lines for a play in which my arm _does hurt." _

Potter frowns at my sarcasm. "It was a stupid thing to do."

"Oh, and you'd be the expert on killing yourself, would you?"

"Well, all I know is that if I'd really meant to kill myself, I wouldn't have only cut my hand."

"Where would you have cut then?" I ask in my drawling tone. As if Potter really knows anymore than anyone else.

"I would have slashed at what you obviously hate most. Cutting up your hand isn't going to make you feel any better."

Potter turns and starts to walk up the stairs. Not wanting to yell out, I do anyway – curse my curious nature. "And what would that be?"

Potter turns on the stairs. He smiles wryly. "Your heart," he says. Potter walks away, and I frown after him, my fingers subconsciously tracing along the deep scars on my hand. They move to my chest and trace along the deep invisible scars of my detested heart. 


	4. Conflicted

**A/N: **thanks for reviewing. I can't tell you how long this is going to be or anything – I have absolutely NOTHING planned for this story :D it's just coming straight from my fingers. So thank them if you're enjoying this, don't thank me!! Oh, and by the way, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what Pansy's supposed to look like, except she was supposed to be rather short and fat (?) so I've basically made up her image. If anyone has a real big problem with that, then email me what she's supposed to look like, but I'm sure no one will care AT ALL so read on!

**Mistal:Abyss****, Water Fairy – yes, I am RATHER eeeevel, aren't I? MWAHAHA! Well here's the next chapter to end my evilness.**

Molpops – of course it's short – IT'S A SHORT STORY! Doy!!

**Twiglet**** – yeah, I agree with you about what you said about balance. Exactly. And know, it was a great review, I love hearing what people think of my story, in whatever ways!! (hope this gives you a buzz ;) )**

**Totaloser**** – lol, did I say madam pomfrey? Oh, so I did. Lol. Will change that as soon as fanfiction stops messing around and lets me sign in!**

**GhostOfTheRobot**** – yeah, I think depressing things are "awesome" as you would put it! Sad, yes, but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy reading it, does it?!**

**One-Winged Angel – **you've reviewed my other stuff haven't you? I'm sure I recognise your name…well, even if you haven't, thanks for reviewing this!

**Treachery89 – **wow, capitals? I'm flattered! Hope this chapter keeps you hanging on as well. :)

**A/N: (again, lol – and this time AFTER I've written the chapter!) **I think this chapter's mainly about Draco having a kind of split personality. He's always arguing with himself, always unsure, always conflicted about things. On the outside, he seems like a confident, arrogant prick, but he's only human. Just like everyone else. He only pretends to be sp sure of himself. Please tell me what you think of all this in your reviews. ~rowanx

**Chapter four – Conflicted**

I ignore the fact that I have a class next. I turn around and walk out of Hogwarts.

_"I would have slashed at what you obviously hate most…"_

I stand on the steps and look out along the grounds. You can see a lot from where I am standing. 

_"And what would that be?"_

I look down at my hand and take in a deep breath.

_"Your heart."___

I look up again and frown. Damnit. I hate it when Potter's right.

So why my hand? It is hours later, it is evening, I am sitting in a green chair in the Slytherin common room, I am staring into the fire, people move around me, no one bothers me, I am silent, I am still, and I am _still _thinking about what Potter said.

He's right, of course. If I didn't feel anything, maybe I wouldn't have tried to take my own life.

But maybe I didn't.

I mean, if I really had wanted to kill myself, wouldn't I have done it properly?

But maybe I just wanted pain. Pain, rather than death.

Pain for being weak enough to want death.

Pain to convince myself that…I am Draco. I am alive, I do feel, I'm not just a heartless shell.

Like my father…

"Draco?" I turn my head slowly. Pansy is standing by my chair. I sigh. Pansy is beautiful. It's amazing how much she's changed. From being quite small and pudgy, she's now tall and elegant. Her thick brown hair is no looking plain and boring looking. From such a normal colour, she manages somehow to make her hair look as if it was electric blue, from the way people look at her. It's very long, reaching just above her hip, and when she turns, her hair flips about her and catches the light, shining beautifully. Her eyes are green, ocean deep, and I'm sure I would have slept with her a long time ago if in them I didn't see what I always see when I look into father's eyes and all of his friends' eyes: Evil.

Trying to ignore all this I raise my eyebrows in that slow uncaring manner. "Yes?" I drawl.

She smiles down at me. "Just wondering what you were doing," she says, and sits herself down on the armchair of my seat.

I groan and shift as far away from her a possible. This of course only makes her shift onto my lap. "Hi Draco," she whispers seductively in my ear.

I close my eyes and for a minute I feel extremely tempted. Then my eyes snap open. No. "No," I say audibly. I try to shove her away but she just clings onto my arms harder and presses herself against my body.

"Oh, come on Draco," she says in a whiney tone. "I know you want me." I shudder. The truth hurts. "It's what our daddies want…"

"Which is exactly why it's not going to happen!" I say angrily. "I am not my father's play toy, he cannot just rule my life like this."

Pansy giggles. "Oh yes he can, Draco. You know how important Lucius is. He can have anything he wants." She runs her hand along my chest. "Such a strong man, your father is. You are just like him." 

All the time she spoke she had been getting closer and closer to my face, and her lips were practically brushing against my ear. I sighed. "So, once again, we do what our fathers want?"

"I know it's not just your father who wants this," Pansy says. She kisses me, briefly, on the cheek, then on the other, then on the lips. Quick, and then pulls away. I feel my lips longing for more but hold them back. I open them to say no again, but Pansy holds her fingers against them. "I know you're a virgin," she whispers. She giggles. "But we could quickly change that. Don't want people knowing now do we?" She smiles. "What's stopping you, Draco? Your father wants you to do this, my father wants you to do this, hell, I can tell you want to, too. So what's holding you back?"

I frown. There is nothing I can say that she won't report to her father, and then Lucius will find out and sure as hell beat me all the more for it when I go home at Christmas. Don't ask why I go home when I don't have to. I guess it's to protect my mother more than anything else – but no one knows that, of course.

Oh, why don't I just sleep with her? I think as Pansy leans in and kisses me again, this time not drawing back. I want to, and why shouldn't I get what I want? I'm a Malfoy.

_Exactly.__ You hate being a Malfoy, don't you? Hate what that means. Hate getting whatever people think you want, when all you want really is to be free._

Ok, so ignore the Malfoy part. Draco still wants to sleep with her.

_Yes, but you can see the evil in her, can't you? The same evil that drives you father, the same evil that almost had a hold of you, until something in you changed in your third year. You're still not sure what that is, are you? But you do know that you'll never join Voldemort. Sleeping with Pansy is like joining the dark side. It's bonding yourself to her and to her father. You don't want that, do you?_

I don't know anymore. Maybe I do. Maybe I should just give up all this empathy and righteousness crap that's turning me soft just like Potter and become what I was born to become. My father.

With all doubts blocked off I stand and Pansy slowly slides off me. Without a word she grabs my hand and, still kissing me, leads me off to her dormitory.

Damn my hormones.


	5. Malfoys Aren't So Great

**A/N: **ah, and now the question you're probably all thinking is, "Did he sleep with her?" Well, your pondering is about to end – or is it? I'm afraid not. Having not written this chapter yet I cannot confirm the previous sentence – I can however tell you that my plans for this chapter do confirm the sentence. In other words, HA HA! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO FIND OUT TILL THE NEXT CHAPTER! :P Having said that you may be able to guess anyway, lol. REVIEW ~rowanx

**Ghost Of The Robot – **you think I know _anything_ about all the hints and unanswered questions in this story?! …well, I do kind of, lol, but what makes you think you'll ever find out!! :P "Does Draco sleep with the slut Pansy?" GOTR, maybe your question should be, "Does Pansy sleep with the pervert Draco?" 

**Snako – **I'd be curious to know exactly which part of my story you found "fun" lol

**Mistal:Abyss, Water Fairy – **and your wish for another chapter has been fulfilled. :D

**One-Winged Angel – **Draco still is cool! Of course he is! No one can resist temptation, that's why it's called temptation, doy!!!! Lol. Anyway, who's to say he'll sleep with her? MWAHAHA.

**Treachery89 – **lol, a hundred virtual exclamation marks – how sweet!!

**(if you reviewed the last chapter recently and I didn't mention you, then sorry, but I thank you now! :D )**

**A/N: **ok, so I've just written this chapter and actually, it does tell you between the lines type stylee whether draco slept with her or not, BUT, it doesn't officially announce it or anything, so be prepared for any surprises my mind concocts up for the next chapter! Mwahaha… I hope you like this non-actiony, thoughts-and-explanations chapter that you're either about to read or about to run away from screaming boredom and pink fairies (warning: there are pink fairies). ~rowanx (oh yeah, REVIEW)

**Chapter five – Malfoys aren't so great**

Whenever I dream I'm always haunted by memories of my father. I don't know why. They say dreams are short captions of an emotion exploded into a world of fantasy. I guess that's the only way to explain my father getting tortured by rather amusing little pink fairies while I stand in a gleam of red and black, laughing, people praising me all around for my greatness. Praising me – not him. All my life people have worshipped and loved my father. They would be willing to give their lives up for him. Why, I've never fully understood. But I always wanted to be just like him. I wanted the power that he has. At first, it was pure admiration and respect. Then it turned into envy. Then of course came the jealousy and hate. I hated my father. More than I hated anything else, I wanted him gone, and I wanted to take his place. I hated him more for being everything I wanted than for beating me. I could take the beatings. I couldn't take the fact that he was worshipped, and I wasn't.

Of course, I was young. I didn't know anything. I soon came to realise that people don't respect my father. They fear him. They wouldn't give up their lives for him because they loved him, but because they knew he would kill them if they didn't. Strange, I know.

The summer before my third year at Hogwarts, we had a visitor. Voldemort. What, you think Potter's the only one who can say his name without flinching? Voldemort stayed at our house, plotting things with my father, who became very testy, taking it out particularly on me. If I breathed too loudly, he belted me. Especially if I did it around "our guest". He put the crucio curse on me once for leaving the table without asking to be excused.

Respect is what my father lives on. He knows nothing else.

I used to do exactly what he said, even if I knew it was stupid or wrong.

Oh, don't look so surprised. Yes, I do have morals, ok? Is it so surprising that I'm a human being?

That first day on the train, when I offered Potter my hand and he didn't take it, I was furious. How dare he not accept the friendship of a Malfoy. But over the years I started to realise exactly why he refused my hand. Exactly why I am trying my hardest to refuse Voldemort's, and to refuse the commands of my father.

Malfoys aren't great. We are fucked up. We go around thinking we're better than anyone else, and kill those who disagree. What a messed up way to live.

So I started to pretend I wasn't a Malfoy. I pretended that had no link to the people I lived with and made polite conversation with at my father's parties. When my father told me that Voldemort had most kindly said I could join him, I said no. I didn't have to do what he told me anymore, because he was no longer my father. Even if it did mean my cuts and bruises stung for about a week and my neck was broken in several different places, I refused to have any of it magically healed. I wanted to show Lucius that he had no control over me and that I would take the consequences and not give a shit about them.

I was free.

Well, as free as I can get with the bastard I live with.

Of course, the beatings and the pain only grow more every time I go home.

Before, I said I did not know why I'm going home this Christmas.

I'm going home, not just for my mother, but because I want to show Lucius that I'm not afraid of him.

I don't have to do what he says.

I don't have to do what he wants.

I can do whatever the hell I want to do.

But I can also do whatever I don't want to do. Why? Because I'm in control. Because I have morals, and mostly, because I hate Lucius – I will prove that I am not like him.

What Pansy said about me being a virgin was true.

Father's always said females are nothing, and we should use them how we like.

I used to think that too.

Until I changed.

I'm a virgin because I believe that father is wrong.

So did I sleep with Pansy?

I really did want to. I still do. I want to sleep with her.

But I hate my father more.


	6. Undeserving

**A/N:** Howdy. Sorry this has taken so long, but here you are. :) enjoy! ~rowanx 

**Ghost Of The Robot – **wow, you love how I write EVERYTHING?! You don't know how great that makes me feel!

**Luscious Kinney – **he is rather addictive, isn't he? You want to find out more about him, don't you? Well, read on then! I don't mean to be a tease… HA! Yeah right. Of course I do!!!!

**Treachery89 – **how did your test go? I feel guilty that I stopped you from revising, but at the same time I feel flattered that you would give up the revision time to read my story! LoL. Who wants to revise when they can read, anyway?!

**Molzi – **long lengthyness? All my chapters were short – and I'm fairly sure this one was no different…was it? Ah well. I suppose it might have been, as ABSOLUTELY NOTHING happened in it. No one seems to mind though, lol. Hope this chapter's "lengthyness" satisfies you! Oh, and anyone else reading this, go read Molzi's "Daughter of Darkness" – it's excellent! And it might encourage her to write more o_O here's the link: 

**Princess of Barzel – **yes, that was meant to be a compliment about your name! LoL. Did you make up "Barzel" or did you get it from anywhere? Just wondering. LoL about shouting out in your class! Hee hee. Harry isn't morbid ??? Well, maybe he is. But you don't know enough about him to say that yet do you? Or do you…I really should read this story over, lol!

**One-Winged-Angel – **…what does abstane mean?! I hope you're around to read this. :)

**Angel Of Death – **I don't think you have reviewed this before… And sorry, but there might not be any Draco/Harry action! I haven't decided yet, lol. There certainly will be lots of hinting at it though!

**Chapter six – Undeserving**

I walk down the stairs of my dormitory. I ignored Pansy's fake tears and it had the exact effect I'd wanted it to. She became angry. She shouted at me. I threatened her. I saw the annoyance. I received a nod in agreement. It's enough for me.

The deal is, if Pansy doesn't tell anyone that I'm still a virgin, which father most definitely not be pleased about, then I won't tell anyone that Draco Malfoy turned her down, which would surely ruin her reputation for being sexy and getting whatever she wants.

Well, she didn't get me.

Walking over to Blaize, I stand next to her and lean against the wall. "Bad night?" she asks knowingly.

I frown. "Not exactly," I answer.

"Ahh," Blaize says, once again sounding annoyingly superior. "Pansy still not giving up on you?"

I shake my head. "That girl doesn't seem to be able to take a hint."

Blaize shakes her head. "I don't know why you don't just sleep with her, Draco."

I frown. "Hmm. Let me see. Good reasons for not wanting to sleep with the girl I absolutely despise…hmm…"

"Give it up, Draco, I know that's not why you two aren't going out," Blaize says with a smile. "You hate the fact that your father still has some control over you."

"That's not true," I say defensively. "I love my father."

Blaise sighs. "Of course, of course."

We stay silent for a while before I move away. "I'm going down to breakfast. You coming?"

Blaize shakes her head. "I should probably talk to the reject," she says with a smile.

I almost smile back before deciding against it. I turn from her and go down to breakfast.

Never let your guard down, that's what I tell myself. If I let people in just a little, it means opening my heart – which I learnt isn't a good thing to do. It only leads to pain and humiliation, just as father taught me. 

I shudder even as I think these thoughts. Even when I try, I am still a slave to my father's wills. I hate that man. I hate the very thought that some of my blood is from that monstrous being who doesn't deserve to live. He doesn't deserve anything. He doesn't deserve my mother; she's the best person I know, and she puts up with his harsh cruelty through thick and thin. I guess it's something to do with love; I wouldn't know. Love sounds too complex to me. Why would anyone love a man like Lucius?

I realise I have been wandering, and am now a bit lost. I laugh. Seven years at this school and I'm still getting lost. It's such a huge place. The statue to the left of me looks familiar, so the pull the arm and an invisible door appears. I step through it and enter a corridor on the first floor. I smile. Handy when you know all the little tricks.

I have missed breakfast. I don't really care though. I don't feel hungry anyway. And I don't want Potter looking at me again. Or talking to me. Why is he acting as though I'm his responsibility or something? Ok, so he saved me, but it's not as though I asked to be saved.

I swear and kick the wall; I'd forgotten: my first lesson is care of magical creatures, _with the Gryffindors. Damnit._

Walking outside I take in a deep breath of air to calm myself, and slowly walk over to Hagrid's hut. I am not the last to arrive, but there are a fair amount of people standing there: including Potter and his friends. Trying to stand unnoticed, I stay silent, until I hear an annoying buzz of a voice that sounds like the weasel. "Hey Malfoy," he calls, "no insults for us today?" Granger and Potter turn round as well. I try to ignore the strange look Potter is giving me.

"If I thought you were worth insulting, Weasley, then I would indeed be insulting you this very moment with my extensive volcabulary; as it happens I am not in the mood to be wasting my breath." I had hoped they would leave it as this, but no – it seems Weasley always has something to say.

"Where are your bodyguards?" he asks. I do not bother to look round. I know they are not here. "Are you afraid to stand up to me 'cause they're not here? Ah, poor Draco, lost without his bodyguards. Hey, maybe if we put him in the lost and found, then Crabbe and Goyle will come claim him…"

"Shut the fuck up, Weasley," I say, astonishing him into silence with my rarely used around him swear word. "You're annoying me now." I say nothing else. Instead I stand with my arms folded and wait patiently for the lesson to begin.

I hear Weasley asking Potter if he's alright. I assume it's because he didn't say a single word while Weasley and I were exchanging meaningless insults. I hear Potter's silence. I hear my own mind scream at him to say something. Why should anything be wrong with him? If it's got anything to do with me I'll kill myself. 

I smile at the rather ironic thought.

Half way through the lesson (we are learning about Rock Beeds – annoying little bugs that turn into rather large rocks and then jump up when you sit on them. Just for fun.) I hear an owl screech. A few people turn their heads and gasp at the ugly looking thing. It is a rather unearthly black, only has one eye, and where it has its other eye, there is a rather long scratch. I stand undecided and then finally hold out my arm. My father's bird lands on it and holds out his leg.

"Malfoy – was'at? No letters durin' lesson time."

I don't bother to answer. Hagrid is a waste of time and effort. I take the scrolled up piece of parchment and the bird flys away. I sigh. Why that bird returns to my violent father I don't know. I can sense a few people watching me as I roll open the parchment. I read it, and as I do, I can feel the blood leave my face. I can feel my heart start to jump a thousand beats in. I can feel my mind boil up in anger. I can feel my bones and muscle clench, wanting to punch something, anything.

I read over the letter again, and again, hoping my father may die if I look at his writing with such a deathly look.

_My dear son – _

_As you and I of course knew it would, the time has come._

_Voldemort has most kindly and graciously sad you may join us in his plans for power._

_I can imagine how thrilled you are at this invitation, but please, do not give anything away. I know how careless you can be, and remember, this is still a secret. We still do not have all the Slytherins._

_You shall meet with him at Christmas._

_Lucius_

My grip on the parchment becomes tighter, and I am now kneeling on the ground, tears of anger prickling at my sad eyes. Slowly I rip the parchment in half. I put them together and rip again, and again, faster, and faster. Fuck my father. Fuck Voldemort. They can't tell me what to do. I won't join him, I won't. I won't. I won't. I won't. I won't. I won't.

I rip the paper so forcefully it all drops to the ground. I put my hands to my head and cover the eyes which hold my secret tears.

I sense a person standing next to me. They drop to their knees and stay their for a moment. After a while they say, softly, "Malfoy."

Shit. It's Potter. "Fuck off," I whisper.

"Get up, Malfoy," Potter says, again in his gentle tone.

Against my will he puts a hand on my arm and helps my up. I did not realise but I am shaking. Potter takes his wand out and points it at the scattered pieces of parchment lying on the grass. "Mercidrake," he mutters. The remains of the letter burst into violent flame and disappear into nothing. At another time I would be surprised at this action. As it is I do not care.

"Malfoy," Potter says again.

"Stop fucking calling me Malfoy!" I yell as loud as I can. I am loosing it, and I don't care. I hear the gasps around as people wonder what's going on.

Potter nods. "Ok. Sorry Draco." He pauses. "You should really go and lie down."

I open my mouth and shut it again. There is no use protesting. Potter will probably get his way in the end. I say nothing and Potter assumes this to be a yes. He takes my arm and gently leads me back up to the castle, without a word to Hagrid or even a glance at his friends.


End file.
